


eyes turned skyward

by writingthepostcard



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU-highschool, Kid Fic, M/M, No Werewolves, i honestly have no idea how to tag this fic, ish, or tag at all, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:24:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingthepostcard/pseuds/writingthepostcard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and Isaac meet when they are five years old, and then again twelve years later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	eyes turned skyward

**Author's Note:**

> Right, so, this fic is really fluffy. Like the fluffiest of fluff. I wrote it because I wanted to write something for me, and, I wanted everything to happen quickly and wonderfully and fast and within 11,000 words.

* * *

_“Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return.”_  
― Leonardo da Vinci

 

* * *

 

Scott loves recess.

He loves playing on the jungle gym, especially with his best friend Stiles. Stiles and Scott only get to see each other at recess, because they have different teachers. But Scott knows they will be best friends forever.

“Stiles!” Scott exclaims happily when the recess bell silences and Stiles emerges from Mrs. Hubbard’s backdoor that leads to the playground.

Stiles grins at him, “Hi Scott!”

“Wanna play in the sand box?” The two turn to look at the sand box behind them, which is pretty crowded.

Stiles shakes his head, “No, not today. Lydia is playing there, and she never lets me build tall sandcastles.”

Scott scrunches his nose and looks at her again, her red hair shining in the sunlight, “That’s not very nice. Why don’t you tell on her?”

Stiles shrugs, “I’m scared she’ll stick markers up my nose. She did that to Jackson once when he pulled her hair, and he cried all day.” He sighs and looks around, a smile coming across his face when he points to the swing set, “We can go play swings!”

Scott considers this; there are only three other people there. There is Erica, a pretty girl in his class with blonde hair who shares her pretzels with him sometimes. She’s swinging with Boyd, another boy from his class. Next to her is another boy Scott doesn’t recognize.

Scott points to him, “Who’s that?” He asks Stiles.

Stiles follows his finger and frowns, “That’s Isaac. He’s in my class and he shares his pudding with me sometimes at lunch.”

“Why’s he look sad?” Scott asks, taking in his mop of brown hair and pale skin.

“’dunno. He’s really quiet, even when we have music time! And that’s the best time because Mrs. Hubbard even has the Pokémon theme song and everyone likes Pokémon. Mrs. Hubbard tries to get him to play with us but he doesn’t want to.”

Scott looks at him and pouts. He looks so alone, and Scott feels the urge to run over to him and hug him, or offer to play with him. No one should be alone at recess. Scott has always had Stiles to play with, and he always thought everyone had someone to play with at recess.

Scott sees that Isaac is sitting on the swing, but he’s not swinging.

“Why isn’t he swinging?”

Stiles hums, distracted, “Maybe he doesn’t have anyone to swing with.”

Scott nods and walks over to him, a startled Stiles following him, “What are you doing?”

Scott turns to look at him over his shoulder, “I’m going to ask if he needs someone to swing with.”

“ _Why_?”

Scott stops and turns around, giving Stiles a look, “Because no one should be alone at recess.”

Stiles sighs and follows Scott, who is now closer to the swing set. When they approach Isaac, Scott notices that his hands are lightly gripping the rope, and he’s so interested in the ground that he doesn’t notice Scott.

“Hi!” Scott says brightly.

Isaac’s head snaps to look up at him, and he looks surprised, but doesn’t say right away. He looks from Scott, who is smiling at him, to Stiles, who is sort of hiding behind Scott. Isaac looks back to Scott, “Hi,” he moves his head forward to look at Stiles, “Hi Stiles.”

Scott beams, “I’m Scott, and I’m in Mrs. Maxwell’s class! You’re Isaac, right?”

Isaac nods and his eyes are wide, and Scott wonders if anyone has ever said hi to him on the playground before.

Scott takes the moment of silence to sit on the empty swing next to Isaac. Isaac watches his every move, and blinks at him.

“Why aren’t you swinging?”  

Isaac shrugs, “No reason.”

Scott smiles at him, “So we should swing! Swinging is so much fun because you get so high sometimes and Stiles’ dad told me once that if you swing high enough you can touch a cloud. I haven’t gotten that high though.” When Scott sees that Isaac is just looking at him, he starts pumping his feet back and forth, as so to get the swing moving. After a few moments, he starts to get higher and higher, and he knows Isaac is just watching him, though he’s still not swinging.

Isaac watches as Scott gets higher and higher, and when he finally gets too high, he squeals, and brings himself down. Scott is still all smiles and rosy cheeks when the swing comes to a stop, and he locks eyes with Isaac.

“Okay, now your turn!”

Isaac just shakes his head, the amusement that was in his eyes just moments ago now gone, leaving them vacant, “I can’t.”

“Sure you can. Just do what I did! It’s really easy once you try it!”

“No, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Isaac just shrugs again and Scott moves so that he’s still in his swing, but his legs are facing Isaac, “You can tell me. You don’t have to be scared.” Scott whispers. His voice is so low and sincere that Isaac turns to look at him, and he sighs heavily.

“I’m scared of heights.”

Scott blinks, “Oh. Well, I can hold your hand.”

Isaac’s eyes flash to him, “What?”

Scott blushes, “My mommy is a nurse. And she says that sometimes when people are sick and scared, their mommies and daddies and friends hold their hands so they know they aren’t alone.” He paused to look at him, “Are you alone?”

Isaac looks down, but nods slowly before looking at Scott. Scott has that urge again to hug him, but he doesn’t want to scare him. And he doesn’t want him to run away.

“Okay,” Scott says softly, “you can hold my hand. That way, you won’t be alone anymore. And then you can swing and have fun!”

Isaac looks at Scott’s now outstretched hand, and Scott holds his breath while he watches Isaac’s bony hand reach out and grip his hand.

Scott’s fingers wrap around Isaac’s palm, and his hand feels so warm and soft. It’s not like Stiles’ hand, or his mom’s hand. Isaac’s hand feels nice in Scott’s and Scott just wants to hold it forever.

“Okay,” Scott says again, “just do what I do, okay? And we can swing together. If it gets too scary, just tell me and we’ll stop. Okay?”

Isaac nods, his hair falling into his eyes when he does. He grips Scott’s hand harder, and Scott gives him a reassuring smile before he starts kicking his feet like he did before. He sees Isaac trying to copy him, and soon enough they are both gaining height, soaring into the sky.

Scott can hear himself laugh and he feels happy, but it’s nothing compared to how happy Isaac’s laugh makes him. It sounds like a song, Scott thinks, and it’s the prettiest song he’s ever heard.

When Scott looks down, he can see the entire playground. He sees Lydia kick sand in Jackson’s face, he sees Stiles on the jungle gym with Boyd and Erica, and he sees Mrs. Hubbard and his teacher, Mrs. Maxwell, blowing their whistles and waving their arms, telling them that recess is over.

Isaac, who was smiling widely and still gripping Scott’s hand, also noticed the teachers calling them back inside. He looks to Scott, and Scott slows them down until they are no longer swinging.

Still on a swinging high, Isaac smiles at Scott, “That was fun.” He says breathily.

Scott nods and grins back, “Yeah! I _told_ you! Are you still scared?”

Isaac shakes his head, “Nope. You made me not scared anymore.”

“Isaac! Come on! Recess is over! Say good-bye to Scott!”

Mrs. Hubbard’s voice echoes through the now nearly empty playground, and Scott squeezes his hand.

“I have to go inside.” Isaac says sadly.

“Me too.” Scott frowns.

Scott looks at their entwined hands and he feels Isaac squeeze his hand, “I’m not alone anymore.” He hears Isaac whisper.

Scott giggles, “Of course not. You’re my friend now. Me you and Stiles can be the bestest friends ever. The Three Musketweers!”

Isaac laughs, “I think you mean The Three _Musketeers_.”

Scott shrugs, oblivious, but the corners of his mouth turn upward, “That’s what I said.”

“Isaac! Come in! You can see Scott tomorrow!”

When Isaac lets go of his hand and gives him an apologetic look, Scott heart jumps, but he feels sad, and his hand feels utterly cold.

It’s something Scott, even at the age of five and watching Isaac rush over to Mrs. Hubbard, is sure he will remember for the rest of his life.

* * *

 

**12 Years Later**

* * *

 

“Mom, I promise, I’m going to be better this year.”

Melissa McCall gives her son a wary look before shoving a brown paper bag into his hands, the corners of her mouth turning slightly upward, “You say that every year.”

Scott has to give it to her, every year he makes the same promise, and every year he and his best friend Stiles get sent to the principal’s office. Frequently (it’s not like he can help that Mr. Harris actually hates him and Stiles, and that he likes to take his frustrations out on him).“I know, but—“

Melissa holds up her hand, silencing him, “Just, promise me you’ll at least attempt to limit yourself to two trips to the principal’s office a week instead of your usual four?”

Scott gives her a grin and kisses her cheek, “I’ll try my best.” He waves her goodbye and doesn’t miss the look of fondness she gives him as he leaves the house and heads to the driveway, where Stiles is waiting in his Jeep. Scott knows that yeah, he gets in a little bit of trouble that earns him a few detentions, but his grades have been improving since he started high school, and he has a job with Dr. Deaton at the local vet.

It’s not like he’s a criminal.

“Hey,” Stiles greets as Scott enters the Jeep and slams the door behind him. He catches Melissa’s eye from where she is leaning against the doorframe and waves, “See ya later, Mrs. McCall!”

“Drive safe! Have a good first day!”

They peel out of the driveway and Scott settles into his seat, a content smile on his face.

Stiles puts the radio on full blast, and most of the car ride to school is silent, which Scott is almost always grateful for. Especially because he knows Stiles isn’t necessarily a morning person, and Scott trying to start a conversation in the morning just isn’t a good idea.

The ride to school is about fifteen minutes from Scott’s house, and the route to get there is always the same: go down to the end of Scott’s street, turn onto Maple Ave, pass the grocery store, turn on the opposite road of the bakery, pass the elementary school, and then make a sharp left onto Beacon Hills Way and the high school is at the end of the road.

Scott has taken this route a million times, and a million times his heart stutters when he passes the elementary school and the swing sets on the playground becomes visible. He imagines himself there every time he passes it; swinging with Stiles, pushing Jackson off when he was being mean, holding hands with—

“Wish you could go back?”

Scott head snaps away from the view of the swing sets to look at Stiles, who makes a left onto Beacon Hill Way.

“Go back?”

Stiles chuckles, “Yeah, like, go back to kindergarten.”

Scott stills, “Oh. Yeah. Sometimes.”

Stiles hums contently and shrugs, “I wish I could. So I don’t have to deal with Harris and his detentions.”

Scott rolls his eyes and slouches in his seat, “Dude, the only way we are gunna get out of his detentions is to kiss his ass.”

Stiles grins, “And there is no way in hell that is happening.”

Scott laughs as they pull into Beacon Hills High. They exit the Jeep with ease and pull out their schedules.

“What do you have first?” Scott asks as they walk into the school.

“English III Honors. Lydia will be in that class.” Scott has to contain himself from rolling his eyes at Stiles’ ten-year one-sided love affair with Lydia Martin. He doesn’t know if it started before or after she kicked his three-foot tall sandcastle down in kindergarten, but ever since then, Stiles has not shut up about her. Stiles sighs dreamily and Scott shoves him in the shoulder,

“ _Dude._ Are you gunna talk to her this year?”

Stiles laughs, “I think this might be the year, man. I mean I’m almost positive we have four classes together. She’s bound to notice my everlasting love for her at some point.”

Scott gives him a look, “I think she has to notice you exist first.”

Stiles shushes him with a wave of the hand, “Already taken care of. I gave her a pencil to borrow Freshman year, remember?”

“She called you Stanley.”

“It’s close enough, alright? I’m telling you, this year is gunna be different.”

Scott claps his shoulder reassuringly, “’Course it will, buddy.”

“What about you?” Stiles asks once they’ve reached their lockers, “What do you have first?”

“Statistics with Mr. Maxwell.”

Stiles gives him a satisfied look, “Not bad. Could be worse. You could have Harris first period.”

“I have him right after lunch.”

Stiles frowns, “Bummer, I have him right before lunch.”

Scott looks at him, perplexed, “Do we have any classes together?”

Stiles takes his schedule out of his hands and smacks his lips with a loud _POP_. “Nope. Not one. Just lunch.”

“Dude.” Scott groans, slumping against his locker.

Stiles looks at him, his face fallen, “This school is conspiring against us. It’s happening.”

“Seriously.”

“I’m surprised it hasn’t happened sooner, to be honest.”

Scott sighs. This _blows_. Stiles is his best friend—how is he supposed to survive school if his best friend isn’t there to keep him distracted from learning?

“Well,” Scott says finally, “At least we have lunch.” The bell rings, signaling the countdown to get to first period, “So I’ll see you then?”

“Yeah man, I’ll see you!”

Scott races to Statistics and sits in a seat in the back just as the bell goes off. Immediately, Scott likes Mr. Maxwell. He takes attendance and sits on the edge of his desk and asks the class how their summer was. And that’s how the class goes. Everyone raises their hands and shares a fun summer story they had. By the time the last student speaks, the bell goes off for second period. Of course, there is a homework assignment, but Scott doesn’t mind. He already really likes the class.

He wishes he could say the same for the rest of his classes, which go by in a blur of attendance, first day lectures, and classroom policies and rules. By the time lunch time comes, Scott’s mind is mush and he can’t remember which class had rules about food during lecture and which class had a computer lab period twice a week.

He’s relieved to see that Stiles looks just as exhausted when he plops in the seat across from him at lunch.

“I hate the first day of school.” Stiles says, taking a bite of his apple.

“It’s the worst,” Scott agrees, “There is so much to remember for each class. Especially since this is our junior year, the most important—“

“—year of high school.” Stiles says, Scott realizing that he probably got the same lecture from all of his teachers, too.

“I am not prepared.” Scott says.

“No one ever is. I think I even saw Jackson break a sweat in Pre-Calc.”

At this Scott laughs, because thinking of Jackson, Mr. _Perfect_ , become stressed under pressure might be the funniest thing Scott could imagine.

“Oh!” Stiles exclaims mid-chew, resulting in him half choking on a piece of his hotdog, “Guess who is in my English class?” He teases, once he’s regained his breath.

Scott tilts his head to the side, “Allison?” He guesses. The thought of his ex-girlfriend brings butterflies to his stomach. While they dated for six months, and still remained friends after a quiet and civil breakup, Scott still gets anxious whenever he thought about her.

Stiles shakes his head, “Nope. I swear you will never get this.”

Scott raises his hands in defeat, “Alright, then who is it?”

“Isaac. Isaac Lahey. Remember, from kindergarten?”

Scott’s heart drops to his stomach, out his butt and onto the cafeteria floor.

Because he knows that name. He knows that _boy_. When Scott passes the playground at the elementary school everyday, he always thinks about Isaac. About swinging on the swings with him. About his laugh. About holding his hand.

Scott thinks its stupid that he still thinks about this, because it was twelve years ago, and after that day, Scott never saw Isaac again. He remembers crying about it, about losing a friend. He remembers his mom hugging him and telling him that he didn’t leave Scott--that he didn’t _mean_ to leave Scott.

“Yeah, yeah, I remember. Wh—what happened to him, anyway? After kindergarten?”

Stiles shrugs as he swallows a mouthful of curly fries, “No idea. All I know was that he left Beacon Hills and didn’t come back until today.”

Scott nods and lets Stiles talk about something else before he gives himself a chance to ask him more about Isaac. There is so much he wants to know, so many questions he has. But he figures that asking Stiles would lead to a lot of questions Scott doesn’t know the answer to. He loves Stiles, but his thirst for knowing everything and getting down to the root of everything could be draining on Scott. And right now Scott just needed to think.

Thankfully, the lunch bell rang and Stiles has to run to the other side of the school for gym class, while Scott has to walk down the hall to Chemistry.

They say their goodbyes with promises that they will meet after school at Stiles’ Jeep, and Scott makes it to Harris’ class with five minutes before the bell.

He takes a seat in the middle of the room, indifferent to Harris’ snide remark as he walks in (“Mr. McCall, shocked to see you aren’t _late_.”), and rests his head in his hands.

Isaac is _here_. He’s in this school right now.

Why this matters so much, Scott has no idea. Isaac was just someone he had played with once in kindergarten. And sure, Scott was _visibly_ upset when he asked Mrs. Hubbard where Isaac was and she had simply said, “I’m sorry sweetie, he isn’t coming back to school.” And okay, maybe the way Scott had felt when he held Isaac’s hand for the first time might have sort of paved the way for his bisexuality as he got older, but _still_.

More students start filling the classroom, jolting Scott out of his thoughts. He leans down to grab his notebook out of his bag when he hears someone plop down in the empty seat next to him.

“I hope you’re good at Chemistry, because it’s the one thing I’m _not_ good at.”

Scott looks up and his stomach flips over because he knows that it’s Isaac sitting next to him.

He knows immediately because of the hair; the mess of brown hair that sits loosely on his head. He would have known two seconds later after Isaac smiled at him, because _damn it_ , he remembers that smile.

“Hi,” he says, sort of sheepishly, “I’m Isaac. I’m new, well, kind of new here.”

Scott blinks at him, his heart speeding up so fast he’s afraid it’s going to run away from him, “Kind of?” He squeaks, not knowing what else to say.

Isaac nods, “Yeah, I used to live in Beacon Hills a long time ago. But, I, uh, had to move for a little while, and now I’m back.”

“Oh.” Scott says stupidly. He looks at Isaac, and he’s still smiling, though it’s faded, and Scott forces himself to relax a little bit, and is able to let his lips form a grin, “Sorry, hey, I’m Scott.”

Isaac nods, “Cool. So, you’ve lived here your whole life, then?”

Scott shrugs a part of him crumbles because its then he realizes that Isaac doesn’t seem to remember him. “Pretty much. Was born here, and I’m probably going to die here.”

Isaac laughs, and Scott notices that his voice is deeper, and then he mentally slaps himself because duh of course his voice would be deeper. But his laugh is still the same, and the sound of it makes goosebumps crawl up his arms.

“Seems you have your whole life planned out.”

“I sort of do, yeah.” Scott says.

Isaac blinks at him and leans a bit forward, “What’s your plan?”

Scott is taken aback by the sincerity in his voice and the question in general. He swallows thickly, but sits back in his chair,

“Well, obviously graduate. Then college, then school to become a vet. If that doesn’t work out, I’ll probably go to nursing school and become a nurse, just like my mom.”

Isaac’s eyes go slightly wide, and he leans forward a bit more, eyeing him, “Your mom’s a nurse?”

Scott nods, “Yeah. She’s been working at Beacon Hills Memorial since I was in kindergarten.”

Isaac nods and studies Scott, as if he were a puzzle and he couldn’t fit in the last piece. After a moment he snaps out of his trance and his eyebrows furrow,

“Hey, were you in--?”

“Welcome, class, to College Prep Chemistry!” Harris bellows, interrupting Isaac and forcing both of them to look at the front of the room. “Now, look to the person who is sitting next to you at your table. Congratulations, you are lab partners for the entire year.”

Scott can hear Isaac chuckle and he turns to look at him. Isaac steals a glance at him, “Hopefully you’re better at Chemistry than I am.” He whispers.

“I’m the kid Harris uses for verbal abuse target practice. I’m pretty sure he has a picture of my face he uses to throw darts at.” Scott whispers back.

Isaac grins, “We’re _screwed_.”

Class comes and goes, and at the end of class they are given two projects; one done alone and one done with lab partners, due at the end of the month.

The bell rings for the period to end and Scott gathers his stuff and Isaac stands up,

“So,” he begins, “We should probably get started on that project soon.”

Scott nods and quickly shoves everything into his bag and stands up, “Yeah, we should.”

Isaac stuffs his hands into his pockets and he gives Scott a small smile, “Could we meet at the library tomorrow after school?”

Scott frowns, “I can’t. I’m sorry, I—I have work until five.”

Isaac’s face falls but he shrugs, “Oh, no, that’s okay—“

“No, dude, uh, you could just come over to my house afterwards. We could do it then. If that’s alright with you?”

Isaac nods quickly, “Yeah, no, that’s fine. Here, what’s your address--?” He pulls out a piece of paper and a pen, and Scott quickly scribbles his address.

“Okay, cool.” Isaac says, “So I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Scott all but melts when Isaac grins at him, “Yeah, definitely.”

“Alright, I’ll see you.”

And then Isaac walks out of the classroom just as the bell for the next period leaves. Scott doesn’t care one bit that’s he’s late.

 

* * *

When Scott reaches Stiles’ Jeep after the last bell (and after scanning the halls for Isaac as he walked towards the entrance of the building), he notices Stiles is _buzzing_.

“Uh…hey?”

“You would not believe what I heard about Isaac Lahey.”

Scott freezes in place as he opens the passenger side door, but Stiles is already starting the Jeep, so he shakes his head and jumps in, buckling his seat belt once he’s settled.

“What were you saying about Isaac?”

Stiles pulls out of the parking lot and looks to Scott, “Well, at lunch when I realized we didn’t know what happened to Isaac, I figured I would ask around.”

Scott perks up, “And? What did you find out?”

Stiles blows a raspberry, “A lot of things. A lot of rumors, actually.”

“Like what?”

“Let’s see,” Stiles begins when they are stalled at a red light, “I heard he was in the mafia, that his entire family was, actually. And that he has some business to take care of in Beacon Hills before he heads back to L.A. where he’s been living since he left. Then I heard he joined a gang when his father died so he could make some money. Finally, I was told that once his dad died he moved to Japan because L.A. ‘wasn’t his style’ and he came back because he got bored.”

Scott stared at Stiles dumbfounded and then laughed loudly. Stiles gave him a look and Scott wiped the tears from his eyes,

“Oh come on, you don’t seriously believe any of that was true.”

Stiles purses his lips, “You never know. The Japan thing sounded kind of cool.”

“Also doubtful. I—“ Scott clears his throat, “—I talked to him today. He’s my Chemistry Lab partner.”

Stiles gives him a knowing look, “Yeah? What’s he like? I didn’t get to talk to him in my English class.”

“He’s…he’s normal. Funny. He’s nice. I like him.”

“Oh yeah? I’m sure you do. I’m sure you like him _a lot_.”

Scott rolls his eyes, “What do you mean?”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t remember.”

“Don’t _remember_ what?” Scott retorts.

“That you had a big crush on Isaac in kindergarten.”

“What--?”

“Please. Don’t even try to deny it. You cried for days when he left and never came back. And don’t even act like you haven’t gazed longingly at the swing sets everyday since that day.”

Scott blushed furiously, so he sank down in his seat to avoid Stiles catching it. He dragged a hand down his face in embarrassment, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He finally said, earning a disbelieving snort form Stiles in response.

By now, Stiles was pulling into Scott’s driveway, “Sure you don’t, buddy.” Stiles says which earns him a smack in the arm from Scott.

Stiles is rubbing the bruised arm soothingly when Scott hops out of the car and closes the door behind him, “Same time tomorrow?” Stiles calls out to him.

“Yeah! See ya!”

When Scott enters his house and closes the door behind him, he can hear the Jeep clunking its way down his street. He shucks off his sneakers and throws his bag to the ground, making his way from the foyer to the kitchen, where he finds his mom at the table drinking coffee.

She looks up from the paper she’s reading when he enters,

“Hi sweetie, how was your first day back?”

Scott makes a noncommittal noise and opens the fridge, “Same old. Stiles and I have no classes together. Harris still hates me.”

Melissa rolls her eyes, “So, same old.”

“You bet.”

“Anything interesting happen?”

Scott sits at the table and folds his hands on the table, “Actually yeah, kind of. Guess who came back to school today?”

“Isaac Lahey?”

“Y—yeah. How did you know?”

Melissa smiles sweetly at Scott, “He came into the hospital yesterday asking for a physical. The other nurses were telling me. Really nice kid, apparently. Smart too.”

“Yeah, he has Honors English with Stiles.”

“Did you see him today?”

“Yeah, he, uh, he’s in my Chemistry class. He’s my lab partner. Speaking of, he’s coming over tomorrow.”

Melissa hums her approval and leans back in her chair, “So, did he remember you from kindergarten?”

Scott sighs loudly and Melissa laughs, “Are you gunna give me the third degree too? I already got it from Stiles.”

“No honey. I mean, I already knew you had a crush on him in kindergarten, you would not stop _talking_ about him—“

Scott raises his hand to silence her, “I get it, mom.”

“Right. So did he remember you?”

Scott shakes his head, “I don’t think so. He didn’t mention it if he did.”

Melissa notices the defeated look in Scott’s eyes and chuckles, “Well maybe after you talk to him more he will remember. You’re unforgettable, you know.”

Scott rolls his eyes but feels the corners of his lips turn upwards, “Thanks mom.”

“No need to thank me, it’s my job to be nice to you.”

Scott throws a crumpled paper towel playfully at Melissa who just laughs at him.

Hopefully tomorrow, Isaac will remember him.

 

* * *

 

Isaac isn’t in school the next day.

And this really shouldn’t bother Scott, because it’s not like he knows Isaac, not really. And it’s not like he and Isaac are even friends; they are just lab partners.

What’s worse is they don’t even have Chemistry on Tuesdays. So when the fact that Scott was literally _searching_ the halls for Isaac’s mess of hair, he mentally slaps himself and curses under his breath.

Scott slams his locker closed after his last class when this thought comes to mind, and his gut tells him that it really couldn’t be anything farther from the truth. At least on his end. To Isaac, Scott is probably just some kid he needs to pass Chemistry.

Fantastic.

His mood, of course, goes noticed by Stiles, who gives him a look when he slams the car door shut.

“Alright, angsty teenager, what gives?”

Scott just shrugs and slouches in his seat, looking out the window.

“Scott…”

“Isaac wasn’t in school today.”

Stiles’ brows furrow and he tilts his head to the side, “So?”

Scott just gives him a lean look, “He wasn’t in _school_ today.”

“And I repeat: _so_?”

Scott sighs and drags a hand down his face—he does not want to have the you-have-a-crush-on-Isaac-even-though-you-haven’t-seen-him-in-twelve-years discussion again with Stiles, so he thanks his brain for what comes out next,

“Uh, we have a lab we are paired up to do together. He was supposed to come over tonight after I got back from work, but he wasn’t in school so I don’t know if he is coming over anymore.”

Stiles breathes a sigh of relief and starts the engine, “Well you gave him your contact info, right? If something comes up, he would have called.”

“Maybe he won’t. I mean, what if he just bails on me?”

Stiles shrugs, “If he does, you can bitch at him tomorrow in class. Now will you put your seatbelt on? My dad is on duty and if he sees that you have your belt off again he will give both me and you a ticket.”

“But you’re his son. Doesn’t that count for something?” Scott asks as he buckles in.

“Yeah; more reason to make an example out of me to ‘better the community.’” Stiles’ air quotes get the message across and the sound of the engine drowns out Scott’s laughter.

 

* * *

 

Isaac comes to school the next day.

Only, he doesn’t look like he did on the first day of school.

Scott beams at Isaac when he enters Chemistry. He’s so happy to see Isaac in school that he at first misses the slight scowl on Isaac’s face when he enters.

He also misses the bruises.

There’s one on his bare forearm, and another on his knee. Scott also sees that his leg is cut up pretty badly.

Scott faces Isaac, but he turns away from him, but Scott persists,

“Dude, what happened?”

Isaac turns his head to look at him, and it’s like Scott is talking to an entirely different person than the one he met the other day. His eyes are distant, and his voice is low.

“Nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me.”

“Well it _is_ ,” Isaac snaps in a hushed whisper as Harris walks in the door, “so drop it.”

His voice is sharp and cross, but Scott isn’t intimidated, “I won’t drop it until you tell me what happened.” He pauses and lowers his voice, so only Isaac can hear him, “Did someone _do_ this to you—?“

“No.” Isaac growls.

“You can tell me—“

“Jesus Scott, just _fuck off_ , okay!?”

Scott’s heart jumps and drops at the same time into the pit of his stomach, because yeah, okay, Scott and Isaac aren’t that good of friends, and maybe he shouldn’t be so inquisitive, but at the same time, what happened to the Isaac who was all smiles and jokes two days ago?

Scott gives him an imploring look, but Isaac turns away and scoffs, taking out his notebook and pen and ignoring Scott, acting as if his seat was empty.

Like Scott was invisible.

He thinks of kindergarten again. How Isaac was shy at first but easily let him in. How easily he _trusted_ Scott.

His heart sinks at the thought that his opportunity to gain that trust back might be gone forever.

The tension between the two during the lecture is so thick Scott thinks he’s could drown in it. He’s thankful when the bell rings, and he isn’t surprised when Isaac grabs his bag and races out of the room before Scott ever has time to put his book away.

 

* * *

 

The next day is a little worse, but a little better, too.

It’s better because Scott’s mom brings home donuts after her graveyard shift and she lets him have three donuts because “you really look like you need it, honey.”

It’s worse because Scott is pretty sure Isaac hates him now.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Scott.” Stiles says to him at their lockers, “You were just asking if he was okay. I think he’s a dick for…well being a dick to you.”

“Thanks buddy.” Scott says absentmindedly, his eyes scanning the hallways, looking for a familiar mop of light brown hair.

“Seriously,” Stiles continues, “you don’t deserve that, Scott. You were being a good friend.”

“I don’t even think we are friends.” Scott mutters.

Stiles scoffs, “Yeah well, whatever you are, it still doesn’t give him a right to be an asshole. Unless…”

Scott turns his head to look at him, “Unless _what_?”

Stiles gives him a look, and it’s then that Isaac brushes past them. Scott notices his eyes look tired, and the bruise on his arm is still yellow and purple, but he notices that there’s another bruise on his upper arm, and cuts on his knuckles.

Once he’s down the hallway and out of sight, Stiles puts his hand on Scott’s shoulder and he let’s out a shaky breath,

“Unless you were right.”

 

* * *

 

It’s lunchtime, and Scott is eating by himself.

He totally, completely blames Stiles, because of course, he and Lydia have to work on a project together, and of course, the only time they can work on it, (“so she doesn’t have to be seen out in public with me, or after government funded academic hours which are dedicated for people above my social status” Stiles had explained nonchalantly) was during lunch. Which meant of course, Stiles was going to agree, and which also meant that Scott had to eat lunch alone.

He planned on grabbing a sandwich, eat it as fast as he could, and then making a run for the library and take a nap before his next class.

That was the plan, but it was interrupted—halted, if you will.

By Isaac.

“This seat taken?”

Scott lifts his head from devouring his sandwich and he’s sure a piece of lettuce falls out of his dropped mouth, because Isaac was sitting across from him with a smile on his face and not with a look that could kill him.

He shakes his head in response and Isaac sits, taking a bite from his apple.

They are silent for a few moments; Scott eating his sandwich and Isaac wat—watching him? Yeah, he’s pretty sure Isaac is watching him eat his sandwich, with a pleasant look on his face.

What the _fuck_ is he getting at?

“So, you uh, come here often?” Isaac asks, his lips pulling upwards in an amused grin.

Scott’s mouth hangs open again, “Wha--?”

Isaac laughs and Scott notices his eyes don’t look tired anymore, they look _excited_.

“Sorry,” Isaac says, “It’s just, I’m not very good at this.”

Scott’s stomach does a backflip, “Good at what?”

Isaac looks up at him sheepishly, “Apologizing?”

Scott is as surprised as Isaac is sincere, and he gives Isaac a look, “What?”

“Come on, Scott,” he says, a blush creeping onto his face, “You may be one of the nicest guys I’ve met here, but you can hardly be forgiving about how I treated you yesterday.”

Scott chuckles and rubs the back of his neck nervously, “I mean, I’m sure you had a reason.”

“I do. And I can’t tell you what that is. But that still doesn’t mean I should have done and said what I did.”

Scott takes this in, and while he wants to focus on the fact that Isaac is apologizing to him, Scott already knows he’s forgiven him, and now he can’t stop looking at his eyes, and how blue they are. And how they are boring into Scott and how they just look so… _pleading_.

It makes Scott’s heart flip.

“You shouldn’t have, you’re right.” Scott says finally, “But those bruises don’t look good.” He pauses to point at the half exposed bruise on Isaac’s arm, “And I’m just—“

“Worried?” Isaac finishes, a charmed smile playing on his lips, “You don’t have to be. I’m actually surprised you are, seeing as you barely know me.”

Scott has to fight the urge to tell him that yes, he _does_ know him, but is saved from blurting it out when Isaac leans forward, “If it makes you feel better,” he says in a low voice, “I’m _not_ getting the shit kicked out of me, so you don’t have to be concerned about that.”

“Then how are you getting those bruises and cuts?” Scott asks, “If you’re not getting beat up, then why can’t you just say what really happened?”

Isaac chuckles and shakes his head, “Well for one, you probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Scott leans slightly forward, “Try me.”

Isaac grins at him—that kind of grin that makes his eyes crinkle in the corners and _damn it_ , Scott knows he’s already in way too deep.

“You really wanna know?”

Scott sucked in a breath. “I said that, didn’t I?”

He smirks. “Alright, then. Meet me at the entrance of the Park and Rec Center at ten tonight.”

Isaac gives him a look and stands up to leave, but Scott grabs his arm, a panicked look rushing across his features, “Wait. Won’t we get in trouble for going there after it closes?”

Isaac looks down at Scott’s hand on his arm, and Scott immediately draws it back. He looks back up at Isaac and he gives him a mysterious look, “Oh Scott, what’s life without a little risk?”

 

* * *

 

“No.”

“Oh come on, Stiles.”

“No—oh, would you quit it with the pouty lip, man? My answer is still _no_.”

Scott hops into Stiles’ Jeep just as he revs the engine. He gives Stiles another pleading look, “I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” Stiles asks, his eyes going wide in surprise and who-the-hell-are-you-and-what-have-you-done-with-my-best-friend, “You would do _anything_ to use my car to trespass at Hale’s Park and Rec center to hang out with a guy who may be a criminal—“

“Those were just _rumors_ —“

“And who could potentially be dangerous? I mean _hello_ , bruises! And also, he wasn’t very nice the last time you two had class.”

Scott sighs, “I told you he apologized to me at lunch. I think…I think he trusts me.”

Stiles groans, “The things that happen when I have to skip lunch,” he mutters.

“Please Stiles,” Scotts pleads, “I’ll have it back by eleven, but if I have any chance of even being friends with Isaac, I have to go.”

Stiles gives him a look, and realization settles over him, “This isn’t a crush anymore, is it? It never was a crush. You like him. I mean… you _really_ like him. You always have, haven’t you?”

Scott slouches in his seat and shrugs, but doesn’t respond. He thinks his look says it all.

Stiles playfully shakes his head and smacks Scott playfully in the arm, “Man, you have it really bad.”

Scott gives him a hopeful look, “Does this mean I can use your car?”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Stiles says, “Pick her up at nine forty-five, and if I see even a little scratch on her, there will be hell to pay.”

 

* * *

 

The Park and Rec center is at the edge of town, so Scott literally has to speed to get from Stiles’ house to the Rec center if he wants to be on time. He’s on edge the entire ride because 1. He is speeding in the Sheriff’s sons’ car and 2. He is about to break the law for a _guy_.

When did his life turn into a romance novel?

He gets to the Rec center two minutes before the hour, but he sees Isaac’s shadowed figure hovering over the front door of the center. He turns when Scott kills the engine and his smile illuminates in the darkness.

“Hey.”

Scott nods his greeting and points to Isaac’s hands, which hold a key that is in the doorknob of the front door, “How’d you get a key?” He thinks his voice shakes because wow he is nervous, but if it does, Isaac doesn’t notice,

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He says as he unlocks the door and pushes it open.

“Is that what you say to everyone you want to break into the Rec center with you at night?”

Isaac smirks and flicks the lights on to the foyer, “No, just you. But I’ll tell you one thing: we aren’t trespassing.”

When Scott gives him a look, Isaac rolls his eyes and jingles the key in the air, “I have a key.”

“Right, so are you going to tell me how you got it, or not?”

Just as Scott says this, they walk into the main gym, and Isaac flicks the main lights on to reveal a boxing ring in the left corner, a badminton court on the far right, and a rock-climbing wall in the center of the gym, that is about forty-five feet high. Scott notices Isaac grinning at the reveal, and he turns to look at him.

“Well, this is it.”

Scott gives him a confused look and looks around, taking it all in, “You play… recreational sports?” He asks dumbly.

Isaac grabs his arm and drags him to the center of the gym towards the rock-climbing wall, “Not just any sport. I rock-climb.”

Scott follows him to the wall, and it’s then that Scott notices Isaac wearing gym shorts, a t-shirt, and sneakers. Scott also notices that there are more bruises on his leg than Scott had originally seen.

“You rock-climb? But how do you get so cut up, then? I mean I know the floors are wood but you wear a harness, don’t you?”

Isaac sighs and gives him a look, and _oh_ , Scott gets it now.

“No way. You’re not serious, are you?”

The small smile Scott gets in response is one that makes him want to rip his hair out, because Scott is almost positive he just saw a five year old Isaac look up at him through his curly hair.

“I am. I free solo the wall.”

Scott gives him a shocked look, his eyes wide, “How often?”

“Every night.”

“Are you kidding me?” Scott exclaims in hushed voice, “You could kill yourself!”

Isaac shoots him a glare, “Well I haven’t yet, have I? I’m _fine_ , Scott.”

“You have bruises, _Isaac_.”

“Yeah, and they heal.” He takes a deep breath and gives Scott a softer glance, “Look, I free solo because it’s a challenge for me. I understand the risks and I know what I’m up against.”

He pauses and Scott feels as though they are sharing a silent moment, and Isaac looks back to the wall, “When I was little,” He begins softly, “I was really afraid of heights. So much so that when my family wanted to go to New York for a vacation, they had to forgo it because I refused to go on a plane.”

Scott’s heart flips over twice, and Isaac continues, “But then once my fear went away and we moved to Los Angeles, I got into rock-climbing. I had to make sure the fear would stay away. I was…so afraid of other things, of other people, that I wanted one _thing_. One thing that I wasn’t so afraid of. And that was heights. I would climb with a harness at first, but then eventually I just started doing it solo. The idea of falling never occurred to me until it first happened. But I just didn’t care. I still don’t.”

Scott looks at Isaac, who is staring with wonderment at the wall, and his heart goes out to him. He has so many questions to ask, but he doesn’t want to push it with Isaac—push him away—so he keeps his mouth shut and asks another question,

“Why did you bring me here? I mean, why did you offer to bring me here in the first place?”

Isaac turns his head form the wall to look at him, and tilts his head to the side, “Why do _you_ care so much if I get hurt or not?”

When Scott doesn’t answer, he hears Isaac chuckle to himself and watches him shake his head, “Right,” he says softly, “When you answer _my_ question, I’ll answer yours.”

 

* * *

 

Scott feels weird the next day at school.

He and Isaac are sitting in Chemistry, taking notes from the board, like _normal_ students. Like Isaac didn’t take Scott to an empty gym and tell him a big secret and give him access to his life that he knew nothing about.

It’s weird.

Isaac doesn’t seem any different, though, which Scott is happy about. He was afraid that Isaac would be cautious around him the next day; that Isaac would think that he would give away his secret. But he won’t, and Isaac isn’t being cautious around him, and they even exchange hushed whispers while Harris lectures,

“Hey,” Scott whispers.

“Hmm?” Isaac hums after scribbling something Harris had written on the board.

“You never answered my question, but, how _did_ you get a key to the Rec center?”

Isaac smirks, “You wouldn’t believe—“

“— _me if I told you_ , yeah, I know.” Scott rolls his eyes but continues, “But you’ve said that and I believe you. So how did you get it?”

Isaac gives him a sideways look, “You wanna know?”

Scott gives him an unchanged expression and Isaac sighs, just as the bell rings, “Meet me at the Rec center tonight, and I’ll tell you.”

Isaac is gone before Scott can blink, and he drags a hand down his face, “ _Goddamnit_ ,” he mutters to himself.

-o-

“I know the owners.” Isaac says as the lights to the main gym turn on, almost blinding Scott by how bright they are. Isaac pockets the key he used to get into the building just moments earlier and they walk towards the rock-wall.

“You know the _Hales_?” Scott asks, surprised. The Hales were well known and very close, but from what Scott has seen they didn’t reach out to anyone in Beacon Hills, despite owning the Rec Center.

“I more than know them, I live with them.”

“You li—?”

Isaac touches the wall and looks back to Scott, “Yeah, I live with them. They’re kind of my family now.”

When Scott gives him a black expression, Isaac sighs, “They’re my temporary family.”

“Oh.” Scott says stupidly, “I mean, I didn’t know that. But, you lived here before? Why did you leave?”

Isaac gives him a longing look, “It’s a long story.”

Scott hums and sits cross-legged on the floor, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Isaac chuckles and sits next to him, his legs outstretched, “Well, to make a long story short, my dad wasn’t the best dad in the world after my mom died. He took me out of the Beacon Hills school system and we moved to L.A. I didn’t mind the move, but…Scott, I wasn’t lying when I told you I wasn’t getting beat up, but that doesn’t mean I’ve _never_ been beat up.”

Scott stares at him, and for the first time, Scott sees a broken and sad Isaac. He just wants to reach out and hold him, run his fingers through his hair, kiss his forehead and tell him that everything is okay, and he will be there to protect him. And Scott is half scared by that thought because he has never had such an urge to _hold_ someone like this before. Not even with Allison, who he was sure he was going to marry.

“So your dad…?”

Isaac nods, “Like I said, not the best dad in the world. And after my brother, he sort of lost it, and took it out on me. And then he died too, and I was alone. So I was put into the foster care system.

“I wasn’t there for long, because the Hales noticed on my file that I liked rock-climbing and recreation sports—“

“—and they took you in.” Scott finishes, putting the pieces together. He feels his heart swell when Isaac’s face lights up,

“Yeah, they did. They’re really great, Scott. They let me use this place during the day when it’s open, and they take really good care of me. Their family is huge, you know, and I’ve never had much of a family before. It’s different. It’s nice. I like living with them.”

Scott considers this, then looks up at the wall, “Is that why you wouldn’t tell me what you were doing at first?”

Isaac hums, “If Talia or Derek found out I was solo climbing, and coming here after hours, they would be so pissed. And I don’t want to make anyone in the family angry.”

“I think if anything, they would just be concerned for you. It’s not like they would kick you out.” Scott says.

Isaac scoffs lightly, “You’d be surprised. I’ve seen families kick kids out of homes just because. I don’t want to risk getting kicked out of this house and leaving the Hales, Beacon Hills, or yo— my childhood behind again.”

Scott stays silent, but he offers Isaac a smile and Isaac blushes, and a few moments later he shakes out of it, “I know I’m taking a big risk by solo climbing, but I can’t give it up, either. I need this. It’s one of the only things I have left that’s mine.”

Scott hums, because he gets it, kind of. He can’t say he knows what it’s like to have nothing and to feel the need to keep one thing for you. He likes to think he has a good life, and he finds it a blessing that he is able to say that.

But that doesn’t mean he can’t feel for Isaac. Just because he hasn’t been in his situation, doesn’t mean Scott isn’t capable of putting himself in his shoes. And he does.

He wants to tell Isaac everything is okay. That _he_ will make everything okay. That, okay, solo climbing on a wall that your family owns when he’s not supposed to maybe isn’t the best idea, but if that’s what he needs to do, Scott is okay with that. He just doesn’t want Isaac to get hurt. He just wants to be there for him.

“Okay.” Scott says finally, looking from his shoes to Isaac.

“Okay?” Isaac repeats, confused.

“Okay,” Scott says, “I get it, kind of. Well, I don’t think I could ever really get it, because I’ve never been in your position. But I understand why you feel you need to do this. And that’s okay with me.”

Isaac’s confusion breaks in the form of a smile so wide the corners of his eyes crinkle and his cheeks turn a rosy pink.

And Scott can’t help but smile back.

 

* * *

**__ **

After that, it becomes routine for Scott to accompany Isaac to the Rec Center at night. Stiles had gotten used to surrendering his keys at the end of the school day to Scott by the second week, and Scott usually made it back home before his mother got back from a late shift, or early enough that she found it plausible that Scott had ‘fallen asleep playing xBox at Stiles’ house’.

Scott hated lying to his mother, and normally he would tell her, but this…this was something Scott wanted to keep secret a little bit longer.

Because frankly, Scott didn’t even know what _this_ was…if it was anything at all. He and Isaac hung out at night at a Rec Center. What does that even mean? To Scott, it could mean something, or nothing, or everything. To him, he knew what it was. But to Isaac? He had no idea. For all he knew, to Isaac, Scott was just a friend in a school system he used to go to and was just trying to get his feet back on the ground. He could make new friends and forget all about Scott.

Nonetheless, Scott wasn’t going to take the time he had with Isaac for granted. So he kept going to the Rec Center after hours, even though he knew he could get in serious trouble. Because for all he knew he could lose Isaac tomorrow to someone like Lydia Martin or Jackson Whittemore—the popular kids whom barely noticed Scott’s existence.

Not that he particularly cared (though he knew Stiles was a different story) or necessarily wanted to be friends with them. He had Stiles and that was all he needed. But Isaac…Scott didn’t know why he wanted him. But at the same time, Isaac was all Scott could think about, especially now that he was back in his life. He was different than everyone in Beacon Hills, but he was _familiar_. He liked getting to know this new Isaac, and sure, he partook in dangerous activity every night; but that just made Scott admire him and want to take care of him. Isaac’s reappearance in Beacon Hills, most of all, made Scott want to hold onto him and never let go.

But at the moment, Isaac was willingly hanging out with Scott. So Scott was going to seize up every moment, because he didn’t know how much longer he had with him. He was amazingly attractive to Scott, so if that were true, he knew other people probably thought so as well. And Isaac was smart, and funny, and nice—a kid any person would want to be friends with. He could be gone in a second for someone better than Scott.

“What are you thinking about?” Isaac asks one night, three weeks after they started meeting at the center.

Scott and Isaac are sitting on the floor again, but this time, there are gymnastic mats sprawled all over the floor for the gymnastics meet that was being held that week. Scott feels his fingers dig into the material and he looks away from the ceiling, which he had been staring at to Isaac.

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying.” Isaac says knowingly.

Scott laughs, “How do you know that?”

Isaac points to Scott’s face, “You make this face when you’re thinking.”

Scott immediately touches his face, where he can feel his cheeks burning from embarrassment, “What face?”

Isaac looks at him softly but then grins at him, “You frown when you thinking…like you don’t like to do it.”

Scott feels his face grow even hotter and shakes his head, “It’s nothing.”

Isaac’s smile fades and he shrugs, “Alright. If you say so.”

Scott feels his cheeks flush again, but he’s not going to go into how great he thinks Isaac is, or how good looking he was, or how Scott has probably been in love with him since they were five years old… that _might_ scare him off.

And it’s already inevitable that Isaac will find cooler people to hang out with, so why speed up the process by opening his big mouth?

He’s only just gotten Isaac back, and he’s not ready to let him go as quickly as he did when he was five years old.  

 

* * *

 

 “I realized something.” Isaac says a week later, the lights of the Rec Center dimmed so that it doesn’t cause too much attention to those driving by outside.

“What is that? Scott returns.

“I don’t know anything about you.” Isaac is facing him now, his eyes swimming with intrigue.

“Sure you do.” Scott says simply.

“You know more about me than I know about you.” Isaac sighs, “I’ve told you so much about me, but I’ve never bothered to ask about you. And you’ve been too nice to offer anything about yourself.”

Scott shrugs, “I don’t mind.” He smiles when Isaac gives him a disbelieving look, “No really, I don’t. I like asking you things. I like knowing things about you,” He blinks, “I want to know more about you.”

Isaac blushes and clears his throat, “But it’s not fair. And I want to know about you, too. I’m curious about you.”

Scott can’t help the grin that is forming on his face. Isaac wants to know about _him_. “Well what do you want to know?” He asks.

“Anything.” Isaac says almost instantly, “Everything.” He says, only quieter, but he knows Scott was meant to hear it.

Scott can feel his heart beat drumming in his ears. And he knows exactly what he’s going to tell him.

“Meet me at the swings at the Elementary school tomorrow after school, then I’ll tell you.”

Isaac gives him a look, “You promise?”

Scott meets his eyes and wow, it’s like Isaac is looking into his soul—trying to figure out what Scott is getting at. Scott feels his heart drop to his stomach but he nods, “Cross my heart.”

 

* * *

 

“So you’re going to tell him, then?” Stiles asks as he and Scott jump into the Jeep after school the next day.

Scott nods at Stiles and he hums, “Are you nervous about it?”

“Terrified,” Scott sighs, letting his head drop to the dashboard, “he’s probably going to think I’m so weird.”

“You are weird.”

Scott gives him a look and Stiles rolls his eyes, “Not what I meant. You’re weird. But that’s what makes you, you. If Isaac didn’t like you, he wouldn’t be sneaking around the Rec Center with you at odd hours of the night and just talking and hanging out with you. He’d be an idiot not to like you.”

Scott groans and runs a hand through his hair, “Have you looked at him though? Like, _really_ looked at him?”

Stiles nods, “’Course I have. Any person with eyes can see that he looks like he just walked out of a McQueen fashion runway. But that doesn’t matter. He’s _into_ you. That’s what matters.”

“I hope you’re right.” Scott lets out a nervous breath, his stomach doing somersaults in between.

“When am I wrong?” Stiles asks, and Scott thinks a moment before opening his mouth to give Stiles a full run-down of the times he has been wrong (which is always) and Stiles holds up his hand to silence him, “Just. Don’t answer that. But know I’m not wrong about this. Now, I’m going to drop your little Hispanic ass off at the Elementary school, and you’re gunna get your man.”

They pull up to the Elementary school and Scott exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Stiles places a hand on his shoulder, “You can do this.”

Scott nods and Stiles stares at him for a few seconds before he realizes he hasn’t moved, “ _Go_!” Stiles exclaims, shoving Scott in the shoulder to get him out of the car.”

“Alright! Jeez!”

“Go get him, buddy!”

Scott waves as Stiles drives off, and then he walks to the school playground, where he can see Isaac already sitting on a swing at the swing set.

“Hey,” Isaac greets when Scott arrives.

“Hi.”

“Why are we at a swing set?” Isaac asks, a playful tone in his voice and his eyes glistening in amusement.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Scott gives Isaac a shit-eating grin and he cocks his head to the side in mock curiosity.

“Try me.” Isaac returns.

Scott sucks in a breath and then exhales, letting out the words that have been burning on his mind for weeks, “I met you here twelve years ago.”

Isaac’s eyes are wide and his lips are parted in surprise, but then he smiles kindly, “I know.”

“I—you do?” Scott splutters, surprised.

Isaac stands from the swing and walks closer to Scott, until they are so close Scott can feel his breath on his cheeks, “Scott,” he whispers, “You’re the reason I’m not afraid of heights.”

Scott looks at him with his jaw dropped and Isaac reaches out to brush his cheek with his thumb, “You held my hand on the swing when we were five years old. I remember it like it was yesterday. I think about you when I climb. About how I wasn’t alone, because when I climb, it’s like you’re there with me, in my head, telling me that it’s _fun_. Like you told me swinging on the swings was _fun_.”

Scott laughs nervously and lightly grasps Isaac’s bruised arm, the contact sending jolts throughout his body, “How long have you known it was me?”

Isaac lets his fingers fall from where they were holding Scott’s chin and shrugs, “I knew when I first saw you, but I definitely knew it was you when you told me your mom was a nurse. And when I saw your stupid smile.”

Scott gives him mocked hurt look and he can’t help that the corner of his lips turn upwards, “My smile is not stupid!”

Isaac steps forward and now their shoes are touching, their noses inches apart from each other. Scott feels his warm hand on his waist, his fingers digging lightly into his side as if to pull him closer, “Definitely stupid.”

And then he closes the space between them and kisses him. And it’s perfect.

“I hoped I would find you when I came back. I wished for it the night before school. And the first person I talked to when I got to school was you. I never forgot you. I always was thinking about you.” Isaac says when they break apart.

Scott smiles at him, “I never forgot you, either. I never forgot about the friend I lost that day. Every time I pass by the swings I think of you.”

Isaac looks to the swings and then back to Scott, “You know, I haven’t been on the swings since that day.”

Scott gives him a look, “Really?”

“Yeah…” He looks at the swings again, “I want to go on them. And I want you to come with me.”

Isaac laces their fingers together, and Scott smiles and lets Isaac drag him to the swings. They laugh when they sit on them and bump into each other. Then they both start to push themselves off the ground and pump to their legs to get themselves higher.

Sometime in their flight, Isaac grabbed Scott’s hand, and it all feels too familiar. The feeling of flying—of feeling weightless. And with Isaac’s hand in his, Scott knows there isn’t anywhere else he wants to be.

**_ Fin.  _ **

  

* * *

 

 

Hope you enjoyed it--come say hi to me on [Tumblr](http://www.writingthepostcard.tumblr.com)!

 

 

 

 


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